Heaviness
by WonderousPlaceForAnEcho
Summary: Part 7 of the Layers series. Final chapter. Can be read on its own. How Rachel and Quinn are resilient. Post wedding, pre wedding, some humor. Edited 2/15/15 with more content. Thank you for reading.


Author's Note: Part 7 of Layers. Titled Heaviness & it goes to say its more analytical and/or darker than the others. Since I have seven tattoos it seems oddly fitting to stop at 7 since this was all meant to be a 1 shot but while writing Lightness I realized I wanted a sequel to that in its antithesis. This was drafted weeks ago but 10 hour workdays & books get in the way. Spencer is from Pretty Little Liars. To the guest review who said my writing makes their head spin...maybe lay down... there's motional sickness medication or see a doctor but I just paid a $600 medical bill so..."sometimes I think I can do crystal meth and then I think mmm better not".

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Untouchable. Negative and cringe worthy was what most people experienced or processed when that word gets thrown around. It was unfortunate Quinn occasionally exuded this vibe. It was reactive of people and easy to brush off Quinn as icy or aloof. Rachel had felt the blonde consciously didn't allow them to be close in high school. It was in the back of her mind up until she had almost married Finn Hudson that Quinn intentionally created a barrier. The accident changed them. Altered the cheerleader in a way that forced her to be vulnerable. Behind closed doors only, of course, but Rachel felt it when she had stopped into the hospital after everyone had left. Part of her expected Quinn to yell her contentions and bitterness or exclaim maybe God hated her and this was punishment because Quinn seemed the type to self deprecate with brutality, but she was surprised to see the blonde slightly bruised and scrapped and sitting in a wheel chair robotically. Graceful nuances and manners were substituted for foreign, jerky, uncertain movements and eyes glancing everywhere but at her lower body.

"How are you?" She got right to the point, didn't say hello, I'm sorry this all happened, sorry I didn't come sooner...Rachel opened with the one question that mattered. And she watched as Quinn sat stiffly and seemed to really consider how to approach the answer.

"Stuck." She said with detachment but the sad, forced smile and undertone of bitterness echoed more honesty than the offered word.

That made Rachel pause. This was all unplanned. And she felt thrown because she had most of her life mapped out, she had a planner that literally organized her days, but Quinn wasn't suppose to ever get hurt. She was suppose to get out of Lima, be something beyond her limitations, be more, because she had hope and believed Quinn was more than her outside shell. Because she knew Quinn was intelligent and had more value than "the prettiest girl" status people bestowed on her when she was in the room.

"This won't be your forever Quinn." She watched from her standing position as Quinn raised her hands from the arm rails on the chair and hovered them over her legs, almost afraid to touch them, if Quinn ever admitted to fearing anything...

"Not about this." Whispered.

Unfortunately Quinn wasn't unbreakable. Instantly Rachel felt powerless. The implications, the weight of the statement. "This" wasn't the worst of it, not being able to walk wasn't going to ruin Quinn's life...it was the life as a whole. Because Lima was crushing and small. For all of Quinn's ice persona and equally disarming charm her life had never been a walk in the park...even if Rachel had once or twice imagined walking in a park with Quinn post graduation. Now it wasn't the walking that was hard to picture but the entire scenario. And god for the life of her Rachel wanted to make Quinn feel unstuck. She couldn't help it-she swallowed and wondered what she could offer and say that could at the least provide comfort. In seconds she knew there wasn't a perfect response because there wasn't any such thing as perfection.

Slowly she walked over to the ex cheerleader, sat at the edge of the unoccupied bed and gently held her hand. For a second she questioned why she hadn't ever held Quinn's hand in silence. When they sang were the only times that came to mind and somehow this felt the most natural and intimate. It would take Quinn months to feel less stuck and then finally any lingering feelings of containment dropped away as the distance to Yale became smaller as she marveled with closed eyes, lost in thoughts. For Rachel that day in the hospital room she decided to check in and be certain Quinn didn't feel stuck in her life. It was a mental note that would become a literal vow on their wedding day.

Brittany and Santana watched as Rachel paced. "Its happening." She nervously played with her fingers. "She's here right?" Finally she stopped pacing and caught Brittany nod with wide eyes.

"Rach...you're getting married in like...ten minutes," Brittany said.

"Berry if you don't stop pacing I'm going to throw up on you." Santana added.

"Don't you dare, then I'd have to postpone the wedding." She said firmly with a hand on her hip.

"She's here, she can't get into a car accident," Santana countered bluntly, cutting to the chase and for a second seemed to regret the comment because Rachel looked like all the air had escaped her lungs. The reminder her absurd, much too young, previous attempt at getting married to somehow who was sadly no longer alive and resulting in Quinn's accident played in a series of spliced, jumpy memories with intense emotions. "Sorry. Listen," she paused and stood up to stand in front of Rachel to look her square in the eyes. Then Santana's voice changed when she willingly gave sincerity and seemed to ignore the fact that she also apologized, hitting her quota for the decade. "You and Quinn were inevitable." She stressed the last part. "Now let's get you hitched!"

"To holding on," she had said with a squeeze to Quinn's hand and continued in her personal, non-traditional vows "to not being stuck."

At the reception Santana of course gave a speech that was with her own flair. "I'm going to keep this short and simple. Though I think we're all amazed and still in shock Rachel didn't have a freaking litany of things to say in the vows and pontificate why Quinn is this wonderful, BUT let's be real here-without you, Quinn would have probably turned into a serial killer or a reincarnation of Sylvia freaking Plath." She paused and raised an eyebrow as though to challenge the blonde while Rachel's jaw had dropped.

When the speeches were wrapped Quinn had leaned over and whispered in her raspy voice, "we've had a messy, occasionally tentative love story, but I wouldn't have altered a minute of it," and to everyone else it looked like the blonde was simply kissing Rachel's neck.

 _Bewildering._ Rachel thought it was the word that best summed up their past and how they had come to this.

Almost three months later after the honeymoon and settling into married life they adopted a dog. It was insane the rescue gravitated to Quinn more than Rachel who was shadowed for a few days until he realized Quinn was home more and also more willing to converse. What was more insane was how Quinn trained him. The vets estimated he was eight years old but the blonde was set on teaching him. When he didn't listen and come she said Blake in a sing-song way then sternly would count in French. Un, duex, trois, quatre, cinq, sept, huit, neuf-always before dix William Blake's head would be against her leg, looking up at her like he was in love. "Allons-y" she would say as she'd grab his leash for a walk. Even when scolding him she'd use his first and last name. "Oh William Blake. No, no, mal, pas d'excuses," he'd look at her with affection.

"Years of French babe and you use it to talk to Blake," Rachel said amused. She was the only one who referred to him by the name he came with.

"That and to berate telemarketers."

"Quinn Fabray," the singer said appalled.

"They call Santana often who is rarely home to deal with it and Brittany is...Brittany. I did it last time we were over for brunch. Might I add they didn't call anymore?" She said with a sense of accomplishment.

But if it was ever more apparent that Blake was more Quinn's than theirs it was when her watch fell off. Blake had scratched at the door while she checked coat pockets, under couch cushions, under her desk, and mumbling to herself in frustration, altering between French and Spanish. Blake was typically and when he started whining she said "d'accord, d'accord. Arrêtez. " She grumbled, annoyed she hadn't found the watch Rachel gave her as a gift and grabbed the leash, clipped it to his collar and was pulled out the door that had barely been fully opened. At the elevator Quinn shut her eyes and tried to form a list of the places she needed to check. Quickly he sat to her side and whimpered as she waited for the elevator to come up. With another whine she looked down. "Oh! Bon! C'est super!" She said already kneeling and gently taking away the watch from his mouth in disbelief.

Rachel found them joyfully playing in the hallway when the elevator doors opened and caught Quinn repeating 'manifique, bon bon, c'est super!'

"What happened?" Rachel asked with a smile at her weird girlfriend.

"He found my watch!" She scratched behind his ears and then rolled his head around affectionately. To Rachel she thought it odd Blake liked to have his head shaken but summed it up to they were both weird and it was an ideal match. "And they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks!" Quinn said happily then looked down at Blake. "Trouver." Then she looked at her girlfriend who smiled at her antics. "Might have to rename him," she winked.

A year later she would discover Quinn knew the names to flowers as they drove to Sam's rustic cabin upstate. As Quinn purposefully drove them off the road she thought for a second she was glad Quinn had rented an suv hybrid, which she was adamant about. Before she could even ask why are we stopping Quinn was already out of the car and smiling. "Lavender." Then she happily walked into a small field and seemed so comfortable as she gently handled the plants. When Quinn sat in the field and held a small bouquet in her hand and daydreaming Rachel wished she had a camera because it could have made for a great author's picture. Instead if Rachel hadn't been so focused on Quinn she wouldn't have heard "I kind of want our kid's middle name to be lavender" because the blonde said it more to herself than her one person audience. "I could grow belladonna or datura." She said after she looked to Rachel.

"Datura what?"

"Datura, also known as devil's trumpet. Both are medicinal, sedatives and can be used to kill someone. So if we have really annoying house guests...problem solved," she smirked.

"Oh my god Quinn." Rachel said after she quickly processed that her wife was a walking encyclopedia and Santana had a hint of truth to the joke part of her speech.

Quinn consistently surprised her.

Like when she'd come home from a show and ask what did you do today? The blonde was on the couch in a long skirt, her glasses and oversized shirt and replied, "treated myself to two waffles," she started but was cut off.

"Did you do your weird layering thing of peanut butter and cottage cheese, chia seeds then a miniscule amount of syrup?"

"First of all there's enough sugar in the peanut butter, the cottage cheese is more protein and kind of creamy and then,"

"The chia seeds are basically overkill with the protein," Rachel commented.

"Then I had coffee and took a nap."

"How do you manage that? God, life of a writer. Really tough." Rachel sardonically added her two cents with a smirk.

"Its a gift," Quinn shrugged nonchalantly and smiled.

"Seems like you had an exciting day." Rachel smiled.

"Spell-binding really. I also moved the rug, vacuumed...front page news worthy," she said but got distracted by Rachel straddling her who smirked down into hazel eyes because she knew Quinn hated when film reviewers over used the term spell-binding. In fact during her mini-rant she posed the question has the world run out of thesauruses?

"You're addicted to coffee," the brunette whispered as though it were a secret.

"You're lucky I'm addicted to a couple things," Quinn replied in her own whisper as she moved her hand under Rachel's shirt and pressed her fingertips into her lower back to pull her closer. The singer considered herself lucky that they had come to this point where Quinn could admit that she affected her, craved her, and wanted her in her life.

She thought of this as they drove back from Sam's as they sat in their comfortable silence. When they returned the suv the woman inspected it, clipboard in hand, and said, "it smells like...lavender in here."

"Oh, sorry, we found a field and flowers, they were in the car for a while," Rachel tried to apologize.

"I'll take it over pot any day," the woman said easily and seemed contented by the smell.

"Goodness," Rachel replied and Quinn smirked because Rachel was charming and so proper and _so fucking cute_ she thought as the woman explained people put animals, manure, drugs, anything into rentals.

Rachel was replaying bits of their time at Sam's because Quinn could be unintentionally funny. The blondes had tried a small project, Sam was building something or other, Rachel had tuned out, but when she checked on them, walking out with a beer for Sam and a hard cider for Quinn she overhead their conversation.

"I need the..." he stopped mid-though as he examined his work.

"The minus one?" Quinn asked to get him on track.

"The minus one?" Sam turned around to look at her.

"There's a plus sign screw driver and a minus one," she said in a 'this is obvious' tone. Rachel announced her presence by laughing.

 _Alright, note to self-don't ask Quinn to build things._ She caught the slight glare the writer directed at her. _But at least she's good with her hands in other ways._

The weekend had been simple and a nice break from city life. A temporary escape that was close enough to camping without actual camping. She remembered years ago when Sam had asked her to in high school in the two seconds they dated. Mercedes had jumped in before the cheerleader could respond. "White people craziness. Don't need to camp. Got a house. Love my bed."

"I actually don't like camping." Quinn had said once Sam looked at her in hope that they'd have alone time.

Years later she would find out the reason camping was avoided, like a plague was Quinn's association to it with harsh memories.

"Before my parents got divorced we all went camping, which was within walking distance to a lodge with a bar and many amenities but it was their last ditch effort to I suppose try. I was being...distant or involved I suppose because certain smells made me think of sexual abuse, which at that time my mother knew was a relative. I was sitting in my tent and I wouldn't come out so my mother came in...downfall to tents is they don't have locks...she said just get over it." She paused in her robotic, disconnected, clinical speech. The brunette knew Quinn had grazed on the topic before about how her mother handled the abuse, this was with more details and part of Rachel thought it was with painful context.

"Just. Like its so simple. No variables. It gives the impression of one thing. In a snap you can accomplish it. Like when she asked me if it was still going on and I said no because it had been years of not happening. Then she asked me if I would go to the family reunion with her in a month like ok, its not still occurring...so since that's over with, lets move on shall we..." she cracked her knuckles. "Basically my mother and I don't talk about it." She ended solidly like the topic was done as well. Rachel thought she may have to refrain from yelling at Judy next time she sees her, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. But it explained a lot of why Quinn still didn't talk about it. "When Nike came up with the slogan just do it they got letters from people," Quinn shifted her tone to something safer, the brunette knew it would vaguely relate to what she was saying, but it was mostly to feel emotional safer. And she hadn't pushed Quinn in this instance because it was the second time she had brought up the abuse in the last two years. "They didn't realize people were that inspired. A guy on the ad campaign said he got a letter from a woman who essentially said-thank you! I divorced the bastard." She gave a stone smile that was so far from sincerity when Rachel grasped her hand to try to show some support.

"Just do it. Just get over it." She gave light scoff like she couldn't put the energy into a larger expression. "The thing about trying not to think about it is you consciously have to NOT think of it, so you distract yourself. You read a lot of books, get straight A's, join extra curriculars, cheerleading...and it worked for a while. But then it would come back, the thoughts, the nightmares, the fog and it buried everything else...and when my parents were out of town and I had the chance to take some of my mother's pills...a book described it best..." she paused and her voice changed from raw to something safe and assured again as she elaborated, "it was the first clear sign that I was alive in days. The first step out of the darkness between the stars, spattered with supernovas of hate and the black liquid of guilt." She swallowed. Rachel held her hand tighter.

She wondered if Quinn didn't set so many restrictions on herself and self-control would she have popped pills while her parents were in town too? Would she have become an alcoholic? And if she related to what she said about hate and guilt. She wanted to come back to that...

"Indulging makes people sloppy, incoherent, unpredictable and something I didn't want to be. But it was really nice. Sometimes...to put thoughts in vaults and up on a shelf to gather dust for a couple hours," she said in a way that held a degree of longing.

"You don't have to put them in vaults Quinn," Rachel said slightly above a whisper, unsure of what to say and watched the blonde lightly nod. Since high school Rachel had stepped, occasionally mentally danced around what she refered to as Quinn's emotional landmines. On a drunken night she even told the blonde, "I gave up trying to memorize where they are...were...because they move around. I'm not saying its bad, we all have our defenses to keep people away," She paused, feeling like a really cheap psych 101 class, but she was Rachel Berry, she fought for things she believed in. "But I'm going to be here. Ok?" She looked at Quinn dead on and didn't give her the chance to answer her rhetorical posed question. "You're worth the effort."

That was the definitive moment Quinn knew Rachel was a force to reckon with because she didn't have a chance, even with all the tools in her arsenal, to not fall in love with her. That was the day Rachel unknowingly set the platform for Quinn to trust her more than anyone she had ever chosen ally invest in. It was why she answered Rachel honestly which was often painful. But she'd often repeat to herself before sharing her secrets and thoughts 'Given the choice between life and death, choose life. Given a choice between right and wrong, choose what's right. And given a choice between a terrible truth and a beautiful lie, choose the truth every time.'

"I know. I'll talk about it another day. Right now I'd like to read and enjoy the day with you," she said with more warmth, knowing Rachel had a full day of performances tomorrow. Smoothly she picked up the book and tried to focus but Rachel was frowning and looked lost in her thoughts.

The brunette remembered when Quinn bought the book. How she bee lined for the young adult section and stayed there for almost a half hour. "Why do you read teen books?" She asked curiously because as much as Quinn was a self described bibliophile she seemed to prefer teen novels.

"There's more freedom with the teen genre. Characters evolve more, there's more social commentary. I think they tend to be more honest and therefor refreshing. A lot of the female characters have more depth or power to them. Better discussion of emotions, drama, hardships, traumas..." she put her bookmark in and handed it to Rachel. "Read the back insert. That's why I adore some teen books," she said with certainty and selectively used adore when Quinn was in love with something and Rachel thought she loved that Quinn reserved certain words for certain things as she opened to the author description.

She had to read it twice. The second time she read it out loud. "Wow...inspired by a particular long sulk in a particularly cold rainstorm, spent pondering the logic, or rather, lack thereof, in love-the ways we coax ourselves to love, to continue loving, to leave love behind." Gently she put the book down in her lap and looked at Quinn who looked a bit smug for proving, rather expertly why young adult literature was worth reading. "Yeah so can I read this when you're done?"

"Of course."

"What's it about?" She asked as she started to open it to the jacket but preferred Quinn to give a summery.

"A family who has had a lot of loss and then the daughter is born with angel wings." She paused when Rachel looked up with raised eyebrows in disbelief she was reading anything that sounded cheesy. "Its not about religion, it touches on it briefly but its written well and is really creative."

"You...tend to..shy away from anything religious." Rachel tried to maneuver the conversation.

"I've had my share of it. Forced on me and religion gets dissected. Of course it would be blasphemous if I ever said this to my family but religion is a man made concept. People projected their divination into an entity that's the adult version of an imaginary friend. Freud even said religion is an adults inability to give up a fantasy and whimsical notions. I'm paraphrasing."

The singer blinked a few times. "You think we'll ever get to the point that logic will overpower religion? In society, well, in the world?" Rachel asked, having wondered what Quinn's views on religion really stood or didn't engage in.

"No. Maybe there will eventually be only one religion. And the solitary, remaining will be the one that had the most guns and isn't bothered by contradictions to use violence."

"That seems pessimistic," Rachel interjected without a challenging tone, more of an observation.

"It's Spencer's. I'm inclined, sadly to agree with her though." She watched as Rachel nodded slowly taking it in.

"Explains the cynicism," she said without any hint of criticism because they both knew she liked Quinn's ex.

"I think the point of religion was peace. To promote peace, but its a waste of time to argue intent. I think religion can be great. It gives people hope. That's wonderful and needed. Spirituality is overlaps but is different..I think that focuses on meditation." She breathed in like she was striving for her own inner peace. "Eventually it would be interesting if hundreds of years from now people are viewed as insane for believing in god. Lower case g. I loved a quote strangely from a zombie series I read in college "The dangerous thing about the truth is the way it changes depending on how you look at it. One man's gospel truth is another man's blasphemous lie. The dangerous thing about people is the way we'll try to kill one another whose truth doesn't agree with ours."

Rachel tilted her head in what shouldn't have been surprise that Quinn bothered to read about zombies until she briefly remembered Quinn subtely tried to read Harry Potter in high school.

"And because as Olivia Wilde says in Love the Coopers..."

"Can't believe you watched a holiday, romantic-comedy over an independent film," Rachel interjected with a grin.

"Yes, but then you owed me with shower sex," the blonde smirked at the thought.

"And after I went down on you for nearly twenty minutes." Rachel replied without missing a beat and took in how Quinn's eyes darkened because it was fun to rile the blonde who was rarely as blunt as herself when discussing anything sexual.

"Ah. What..were we talking about?" Quinn said with a head tilt. The brunette laughed.

"Religion."

"Riveting," she said sarcastically like Rachel had dumped ice water on her. "Well...god seems to need too much validation. Ugh love me most or go to hell. So like Olivia Wilde's character I believe in the sound of Nina Simone's voice." She finished with a cheeky smile "because there are plenty amazing, beautiful, stunning, unbelievable things to believe in."

"Oh I love your brain," Rachel shook her head and sighed, not caring how dorky she may have sounded because it was true.

"I'm somewhat brilliant, but not very smart," Quinn said with a mix of arrogance and self-deprecation that was a talent of hers.

"I fell in love with your brain," she said factually because Quinn couldn't deny that or refute it in any way possible. It was Rachel who did the falling, the action, the dedication. Quinn was the source, Rachel was the follow through because she was still there. "And I ask you things because I don't know your perspective and I want to know about your past. I would be...elated to know you feel safe. I hope for that. The few times you've brought up that part of your past I've wanted to ask is there anything I can do...and...do you think its shaped you? You said you think it will affect our kids because of how you'll be a parent but babe, you'll be good and warm and they'll be so much love to experience, I know that. And I want to get married. You know that. Maybe I'll ask you or you'll ask me. I don't know what I want you to say, I just like when you say things." And it was a lot to take in, like the weight of a waterfall, the smell of ambers, the color of a serene ocean. It was unprecedented. Quinn was stunned. Soft but powerful and honest. Rachel's delivery lacked any pontification. It was gentle and with unwavering conviction. How it had taken Quinn so long to allow herself to be loved by the girl next door made her question her own intelligence. Allowing meant being unguarded. Here was Rachel giving her a just, an implied one thing in its beautiful simplicity. It was the best 'just' statement she had ever heard.

The End

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Author's Note: Thank you (very much) for reading. The image of Quinn sitting in a field with flowers was worked in/inspired by Dianna Agron's instagram or twitter pic (not positive because my memory is abysmal) Trouver means to find. The quote from the teen book about why we love & choose to hold onto it is the from The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender. The Core of the Sun is where the quote-it was the first clear sign I was alive in days comes from. The quote "given the choice between life and death" is from the book Blackout by Mira Grant. Part 3 of a zombie series that I surprisingly loved. As was the 'dangerous truth' quote. Surprised me I really liked the movie _Love The Coopers_ but it had everything to do with Olivia Wilde's line delivery  & snark. I.E-"You probably don't believe in global warming. I could never marry you." Then when the guy said "if we evolved from monkeys and apes, why are there still monkeys and apes" and she replies, "that's funny because my dog asked me the same thing about wolves yesterday." The movie _Tumbledown_ that Dianna Agron is briefly in-its where the line "I don't know what I want you to say, I just like when you say things." Also Happy Valentine's day. Best part of my day was a friend was really creative  & wrote me a poem (which I edited my name out here): C.P.F. you are truly 1 of a kind, you enjoy watching movies to help you unwind, ever vigilant for empty bottles to find, your work ethic-impressive-it boggles the mind. C has a dog & Juniper is her name, if you're missing butter she's the 1 to blame, running like a cheetah is JJ's claim to fame, chasing the rabbit, Gobbles is her favorite game. C is cute as a bug but she's always cold. She's kind & generous & has a heart of gold. C holds her emotions in-she's self controlled, she's always there for others when they need to be consoled. I want to thank you for the kindness you show. I appreciate the help, the food, and videos. I value your friendship & want to let you know I'll be here for you regardless of where you go! So Valentine's isn't all about romantic love, I think it extends to loving friends & being thankful.


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